Famous Final Scene
by SpendForever-inmy-PoisonArms
Summary: What if when Dean left Hell, someone had to take his place? my character likes to swear a lot, so be warned.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey you guys, just wanted you to know that I will try to update this whenever I can, and criticism is greatly appreciated. Dean and Sam will come soon, I promise, I just have to give my Character a background. Enjoy! _

I tossed my keys into the blue ceramic bowl that sat on a tall skinny wooden table by the door and kicked off my shark skinned heels into the corner of my tiny apartment. Opening the fridge, my fingers wrapped around the remaining of my quarter pound burger with no pickles and extra onions. My eyes caught sight of the, ahem, small pile of bills and junk mail that rested on the edge of the stove.

'Not today' I thought as I unbuttoned my jeans. Propping my aching feet up on the coffee table and I reached under my butt to grab the remote that always seemed to find its way back beneath my cushions. And there I sat for the next couple of hours until I lost feeling in my toes and the only thing on was infomercials and 16 and pregnant.

I flipped the light switch off with my elbow and tossed my rubbish into the trashcan in the kitchen. Slowly, I slid along the wall because I thought it would be fun to bang my feet into invisible objects in the dark while I struggled to stay awake long enough to at least get to my room. When I finally slipped into something comfortable, the warm embrace of my floral comforters lulled me into one of the most wonderful period of sleep that I had in ages, unaware that in the next couple of hours, my life would turn to hell.

The pounding on my door startled me awake. I glance at my alarm clock, 3:24 AM.

'What the hell?'

I blindly grab at the flashlight that I keep under my pillow. Slowly, I slid out of bed and crept towards the living room. Nearly jumping out of my skin, I whirled around to the sound of barking and snarling at my window. Which is odd since I live on the 6th floor and you weren't allowed to have animals in the building. I peer around the wall to see my door rattle and shake from the pounding, which seemed to have gotten louder.

'Where is everyone? Can't they hear the racket this guy is making?'

The beam of the flashlight rested on the door handle and flickered. And then died.

'No,' I thought franticly as I hit the head of the flashlight with the heel of my palm. 'Don't you dare die on me.'

the hair on the nape of my neck rose when I threw the useless piece of shit on the sofa, realizing that I was completely defenseless now that my pathetic excuse for a weapon died. As soon as my trembling fingers reached the door knob, the pounding stopped.

'What?'

I looked through the peep hole and saw no one in the hallway. The adrenaline slowed when I convinced myself that I must have imagined the entire situation, even the flashlight turned on. 'Must have been the burger.' I thought as I spun on the heel of my foot to head back to my room but then the door exploded.

I flew across the hall and smacked my head on the corner of the bathroom closet. My vision swam as I shook my head, frantic to try to figure out what was going on. A figure strode in my direction and stopped a couple feet away from my feet. I scrambled away from him and found that I didn't have anywhere to go. A whimper escaped from my lips. Two big black dogs paced behind their masters legs, curling their lips to show their black maws. In this sort of situation, I blurted the first thing that came to my mind.

"The building doesn't allow pets." The man formed something of a smile on his face, the action seemed foreign to the muscles in his cheeks.

"Girl, I could really care less about shit right now. Instead of worrying about me, how about worrying about you."

His dogs suddenly sunk their teeth into my feet and dragged me to the door. A high pitched scream tore from my throat, hoping that someone, anyone, would come and help me. I struggled to grab hold of anything that would prevent my would be murderer from taking me. My peripheral vision caught sight of flames outside my doorway before I blacked out.


	2. Chapter 2

When I came too, my head was pounding like a bitch. My eyes struggled to focus on the ceiling. Cracks webbed out from smack dab in the center and some sort of substance was spattered directly above me. If I squinted hard enough I could make it out as-

"Looks like sleeping beauty has finally awoken from her eternal slumber."

The man from before stood in the doorway of the room. His face was shielded by shadows. I struggled to get up, to get away from him, but my body jerked. I glanced down and saw iron cuffs around my wrist, ankles, and waist. I also noticed that I was stripped down to my undies and bra. I tried again to get free, but it was all in vain.

"Come closer so I can strangle you, you pathetic psychopathic fucker."

The man stepped out from his curtain of darkness, his shoulders slightly trembling as he chuckled. "You certainly didn't get that tongue from your father."

I curled my lips and sneered at him, "I'm almost positive I didn't get it from the tooth fairy either. What the fuck is going on?"

Lines on his face deepened as his leathery face darkened. "One of my pupils has been temporarily lost, and while I wait for him to come back, I need a way to . . . practice my lessons. And you, darling, are the lucky monkey, and frankly," he shrugged, "I hate your family."

Looks like someones kuku for coco puffs.

"What the hell are you?"

The man sauntered over to a metal cart that was next to me, and picked up a scary looking turkey carver. "Some call me Picasso with a razor," his eyes held mine and rolled back to reveal milk white eyeballs. "But you can call me Alastair."

He's a demon. What the hell? There is no such thing as demons. Oh crap, this is probably the burger messing with me. I knew I shouldn't have left it out for three days. Maybe if I just- White hot pain flared up from my ribs to my collarbone. I bit my lip to keep from screaming out. The fucking little bitch sunk the knife into my side and glided it skillfully up to my shoulder, scrapping the bones of my ribs.

"You know, you don't seem like your fathers daughter."

Gritting my teeth, I rolled my head to glare at him, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Well, for starters, he would never ink his skin." The tip of his knife traced my a tattoo that curled along my waist. He started applying more pressure as he followed the intricate twists and turns, causing me to gasp in pain. "And he would never dye his hair." Alastair pressed his nose to my scalp and took in a breath. I didn't bother to waste my energy to uselessly try to get away from him. My lilac colored hair clung to my sweaty throat and tugged at my head painfully when I squirmed.

"What is your fascination with my dad about? I'm pretty sure he doesn't swing that way."

CRACK! Tears sprung to my eyes as he snapped my shin with his fingers. A piece of my bone protruded out from my split skin.

"Maybe you take after your mommy."

"Shut up and answer the goddamn question, you motherfucker." I hissed out. Alastair smiled, amused at my weak displays of will.

"For a mortal, your father was a hard egg to crack. Once he died, he was on the rack for quite awhile. I did everything to him, broke all the bones in his body, skinned him alive, even chopped off some limbs he wasn't going to use again. But he didn't lose it. He kept mumbling about getting out and not disappointing HER again." Alastair stripped off a strip of my skin from my side. Fire exploded throughout my right side of my body. But I held it in. "And I wondered, who could be so important to this pathetic creature that he would go through endless torture to see again. So I started asking. But all he would say was a name, Calla,"

My head jerked up.

"Calla, my sweet Calla, daddy won't miss another birthday again, he promised. It was such a . . . wasted act. No one gets out of Hell, its a one way ticket. But somehow he slipped right through the gates and BAM!" I heaved as he crushed one of my ribs. "He was free from the tight clutches of the pit. And I have been sort of searching for him ever since." I spat out blood and grinned at him."Well, your just a little too late amigo."

"Not quite, see," Alastair dug his fingers into the muscles of my side where he flayed the skin off. "I have you, and it would be interesting to see if you really are your fathers daughter or just a piece of shit." Swallowing down bile, I struggled to stay awake. "And what does your pupil have to do with me?" Alastair shrugged, "I'm pretty upset that he left and I just wanted to let my feelings out," he tossed a mallet lightly between his hands, like a child playing with his toy. "Because it is not healthy to bottle it up inside."

Then he swung.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't know how long I have been here, but I did know one thing.

That I was in Hell.

What gave it away? I don't know, it is sort of a gut feeling. The dark cages, heat, and endless screams of hysterical pain certainly didn't give it away. It must have been at least 50 years since I have been dragged down here by a demon named Alastair. Its a miracle that I'm still alive, after all he did to me. Well, maybe I would rather be dead.

He certainly earned the name Picasso with a razor. From skinning me to breaking all my bones, making me watch hideous tortures to burning alive. Sometimes, he just came to my cell and talked to me, taunting me with information that I knew wasn't true but secretly dying a little and then some days, he would just come and torture me without saying a single word. Not once did my mind break and I don't know if thats a good thing. Alastair seemed to have gotten more interested in me the longer I resisted to give up my humanity.

As I laid on the moist dirt floor with my feet propped up on the wall, I thought over all the things I did to deserve this. I mean, I wasn't exactly Charlie's angel but I did my fair share of crying when those animal abuse commercials came on.

Screams echoed throughout the halls. I couldn't even remember what life was like anymore. Did anyone notice I was gone? Probably not, since I had no one of importance back on earth. The thought of having no one to care about me back at home depressed me.

Creak. . . I turned my head towards the door to my cell. A sliver of light signaled that it was open. I cautiously crawled over to the cell door and peeked out. No one was in the hall.

Where was Alastair? Isn't he coming?

My bare feet slapped against the concrete floor as I jogged down the dank hallway. I slipped behind a stone pillar as a couple demons walked by, cackling about someone they probably broke. I had no idea where I was going so I just followed the carving on the walls that said "NEW SOULS". Maybe I could find the door between Hell and Real Life. I hurriedly jogged to a huge ancient gate. Just as my hand touched the handle, a shriek of fury shook the walls. I knew that one of the demons had found my cell open and it was only a matter of time before they found me. With all the strength that I could muster, the gates groaned and enough for me to squeeze through.

And then I started running.

And I kept running.

Scenery changed from bleak darkness to dense forests. The detached facade that I had built up wavered and crumbled as tears slicked my cheeks. My breath hitched and my throat burned with thirst. I didn't bother to look where I was going, all I wanted was to get away and never go , I didn't want to go back. I was so terrified that when I turned a corner, Alastair would be right there and he would wrap his long bony fingers around my arms and drag me back down to Hell.

Branches and thorns snagged at my skin, leaving ribbons of blood that would well up and drip. I was so tired, so tired, but I forced myself to go faster, a squeal slipped out when I I recalled memories of the night he came for me. I could almost imagine the snarling and snapping of those vicious dogs at the heels of my feet.

It wasn't until too late that I realized that I ran out into a street or that a car was going too fast to stop.

_With stairway to heaven playing on the radio, the two men relaxed for the first time in a while. The driver singing along under his breath and the passenger reclined back with his eyes closed. They didn't even realized they hit somebody until too late. A jolt shocked the men out of their dazes and the car slowed to a stop. Exiting the car, they hurriedly clicked their flashlights on. The driver ran his hand through his short hair, "Dammit. What the hell happened? She just ran out like that!" the other man bent down and put his fingers against her throat, searching for a pulse. "Dean, we need to get her to a hospital now." Dean picked the woman up and started walking to the car, "Yeah, I know Sammy. Let's go." Going 50 miles an hour, Dean glanced in the rear-view mirror. 'What the hell happened to you?'_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Hey, I am so sorry for not updating sooner. I have been very lazy with ideas. I wanted this chapter to sort of start Calla's journey, the next chapter she'll officially meet the Winchester bros. I first wanted her to meet Bobby. I made it extra long to make up for my laziness, though it is no excuse. I'll let you get to reading my story. I'll try to write the next one faster. So here it is, hope doesn't disappoint. And don't forget to review! Thats the most important part.**_

'Ugh... What the hell?... I feel weird.'

I opened my eyes then immediately shut them. The fluorescent lights seared my brain, causing me to cringe in pain. I was on a bed that smelled like blood and death. An IV dripped into my arm, pumping god knows what into my veins.

"Ah good, your awake." A middle aged woman wearing a lab coat strode into my room and smiled at me.

"My name is Doctor Tyler. You know, you were quite a mess when you came in here. Good thing those two men came and made sure you were well taken care of."

I held my hand up to my head and grimaced, "What the hell happened to me?" Dr. Tyler chuckled, "You got hit by a car when you ran out from the woods down the street."

I looked at her like she was insane, "You think this is funny?"

The woman slowly let the smile drop from her thin lips. "Of course not. My apologies, so why don't you tell me your name sweetheart?"

It took me awhile to figure out how to answer her. "My name is Callahan Iver."

Dr Tyler scribbled something down on a clipboard. "Ok Callahan, where do you live?"

"I live . . ." 'where do I live? I can't remember?' I swallowed hard.

"I don't know."

She glanced up from her notes, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Ok, when were you born?"

And that was how it went for the next twenty minutes, her asking me questions about myself and I answering only three out of maybe, fifteen. She said something about amnesia but I didn't listen, how could I forget where I was born? Who my parents were? I could only hope that when the Doc gets back from looking me up, I'll know all the little things. That thought calmed me down a little. But it terrified me that when I struggled to look into my memory, patches of my past were gone. I couldn't remember what I had to eat yesterday or if I graduated high school or if I had any friends.

Thats what I did for the past couple of hours, worrying over my useless memory until Doc knocked on my door. She came in with a weird expression on her face but I ignored it.

"So? What happened?"

"Well, I put in your name, Callahan Iver and your age, and no results came up."

I scrunched up my nose in confusion. "Excuse me? I don't understand."

Doc stared at me in pity, "There is no record of you in the system. Almost like you don't exist. But maybe it was just an error. You sure your name is Callahan Iver? Keep in mind that you might have lost your memory."

I didn't hear a word she said. 'I don't exist? How is that possible?' While I was thinking about this, I didn't notice a man had walked into the room and was standing at the edge of my bed. When I realized he was there I took my time to try to see if I recognized him. He looked about 50, 55 and had a scruffy beard. He wore a worn out flannel and truckers cap. The longer I stared at him, the more it frustrated me that I couldn't seem to find anything about him that seemed familiar. The most likely option was that I've never met him before. The whole time, grandpa stood there, waiting for me to be ready to talk.

I showed him a strained smile, "So, you know those sons of a bitch that hit me?"

He chuckled gruffly, "Unfortunately, yeah. The names Bobby Singer. I'm here to clean up those boys mess."

I looked closely at the man. Something about him suggested that I could trust him. And I really needed to know if I could for what I was about to do.

"Hey, can you do something for me?"

Bobby paused, a surprised look widened his face, then wariness shadowed the deep lines on his face. "Why?"

I winced as I yanked out the IV drip and swung my feet off the side of the bed. Bobby quickly gently put his hand on my shoulder, "Girl, what do you think your doin'?"

Though a little unsteady on my feet, I held onto the wall for support as I took a couple steps towards the door.

"I need you to help me get out of here."

"Whoa there-"

"No," I leaned against the wall to stare into Bobby's brown eyes, willing him to get off his sorry ass and try to help me.

"No, I need to get out of here. There are no records of me here. I don't exist at this freaking hospital. I need to get out and try to gain my memory back. I can't fucking remember my family, my friends, hell, I can't even remember where I've been for the past couple of days. Please Bobby, I need you to help me."

The bed creaked as Bobby sat down on it to try to think. It was obvious that he was contemplating on whether to call the doctor in to strap me down because he kept glancing at the door. After three wasteful minutes of Bobby checking his morales, he finally sighed and grabbed the wheelchair that laid in a heap in the corner of my room. "Get in the damn chair."

Bobby muttered foul words at me as he rolled me down the hospital hallway. I couldn't keep the terrible grin that curled my lips. I couldn't believe he was actually helping me.

It was tense the whole time until we rolled out the doors. I picked at the hideous hospital gown that hung off my frame. How was I going to get my memory back looking like I died twice. I noticed that Bobby kept pushing my wheelchair past the bus stop and towards a beaten down truck.

Oh god, no wonder he helped me out, he was going to kill me. Jesus Calla, you sure know how to pick 'em.

"Hey, uh... thanks for the help...i really got to catch the bus which is in the other direction."

Bobby shook his head and growled, "I can't do that, since I helped you with this little mission impossible, I ain't gonna let you loose without your memory, you could wind up dead."

I squirmed uncomfortably in my chair.

"I think that might happen sooner than you think." He looked down at me in surprise and laughed, "Sweetheart, if I wanted to kill you, I would have done it already."

We've reached his truck and he held out his had to help me up. I ignored it and stumbled into the passenger side seat of the vehicle. Bobby chuckled low under his breath and said something about an ass and idiot, or did he say idjit?


	5. Chapter 5

**Hey you guys, i am so sorry that i couldn't get this up earlier. i was just a lazy piece of star dust. i don't even know. so this chapter is longer that the other ones so far and i was true to my promise. the winchesters make a surprise appearance in here. tell how you think it went. please, your feedback actually motivates me. i just want to say that wandertogonder was a big help and motivator even if they didn't know it. ok, stop talking and let these fools read - ah i mean fans. oh and just fyi, this is my birthday present to myself. enjoy and dont forget to give me your thoughts even if they are a jumbled mess. i appreciate ideas as well as how to continue on with my story cause whether you like it or not, im gunna finish this baby til the and there is a generous amount of swearing coming from yours truly.  
**

**i do not own supernatural.**

"Get anything yet, Sherlock?"

I let out an irritated sigh and forced a smile on my face.

"Well, maybe if you didn't sass me every five minutes, I would have gotten something by now."

A chuckle rumbled in my chest when I heard Bobby mutter to himself about sassing me. But he had a point. DID I get anything back? I hadn't felt any pulses of energy or a vicious pain in my skull so I must a missed something. I turned back to find Bobby drinking out of a flask.

"You sure this is where I dropped?"

He cleared his throat and nodded. For some reason, I felt like I was about to cry. No, not for some reason, I had a reason and a damn good one. That was my only lead to get my memory back and I got jack squat.

What if I had to live the rest of my life with my past gone. I had a life goddammit! I deserve to get it back. I hadn't realized that I had started sniffling until Bobby held out his flask to me. I took it gladly and took a respectful swig. The soothing sensation of burning fire went down my throat and warmed my toes. Ah, at least I could find familiarity in killing my liver. Bobby didn't say anything about what had just happened, he just took his flask and held open the passenger side to his truck. I thought about declining his offer and lying about how I had a place up the street but I had a feeling he would call me on my bullshit and frankly, I didn't want to be alone. So off we went to God knows where. Probably a motel. He seemed like a motel kind of guy.

Well, we didn't stay at a motel. Nor a bed and breakfast. No, Bobby just HAD to take across three fucking states so we could go to his fucking salvage yard of a home (I shit you not, it was actually a salvage yard with dead cars and shit) so I could fucking figure out what in the goddamn hell I was going to do about my bitch of a memory. I got a maximum of three hours of sleep so I feel like a fucking princess. Bobby had to buy earplugs a day into the little quest back home because apparently I'm not road trip fucking material.

So when we arrived at casa de Bobby, he dragged my ass up the stairs (I wish I could say that metaphorically but I still have the bruises around my ankles) and told me to get some shut eye. And me being the little fucker I am, asked for a bedtime story. The old man stared at me for a long time, like it was sort of starting to creep me out.

And then he said, "Go the fuck to sleep."

I couldn't really say no to that so I closed my eyes and went out like a light.

When I came to, I didn't recognize where I was. It certainly wasn't my room. I had it painted a deep purple color and had floral comforters on my beds, in the corner by the wastebasket was a box of tampon- Suddenly, everything that had happened over the last couple of days came rushing back. Me being roadkill, me threatening to strangle my nurse with Jell-o, my memory. But that was silly, I remember perfectly what my apartment looks like. And then I realized that it came back, my memory came back.

Without thinking, I ran down the stairs and got off my ass when my socks couldn't find traction on the wooden floor. Bobby was wiping oil and grime from his hands when I caught him by surprise by wrapping my arms around his strong middle.

"It came back Bobby! My memory came back!"

I could hear the rumble of his laugh through the back of his flannel as he peeled my arms away from him.

"Ya sure it's real? You know where you live now so I can get some peace and quiet?"

I searched through my head, intent on finding an address, any address, but all I could see was my room. I shook my head, bummed out that I had my hopes up only to have them come falling down. Bobby gave me a sympathetic one sided hug and then pushed me toward the screen door that lead to the kitchen, hinting that he wouldn't mind a ham sandwich. I gave him a light shove and lifted two fingers to my temple in a mock salute.

Skipping over the rotted wooden steps, I entered a hallway that had books stacked high along the wall. I told myself to not be too disappointed that my entire past hadn't came crashing down on me as I moved aside a couple cans of tomato soup. At least I was getting bits and pieces rather than none at all.

I turned around quickly and peered around the fridge. I could have sworn I heard the front door open and close. Just as I was about to let out a breath, I heard a click. Two clicks in fact. Two very distinct clicks of guns. All those late night crime shows taught me a lot of things.

One: when to know when a weapon is being drawn.

Two: well . . . I never finish them because I get very sleepy past 1 AM.

As I scoot back along the counter, trying to find an escape, my hand grazed the handle of handle of a frying pan on the stove. Gripping it in my hand, I darted across the kitchen to lean against the opposite wall, to lie and wait for the low life son of a bitch that can't get a job and has to resort to breaking and entering, intending on robbing a poor, defenseless man, though Bobby a poor defenseless guy- a dark figure popped out from behind the wall, unaware that I was there. Though I think I made my presence known when I swung with all my might and hit the person square in the face. He dropped like a rock.

A little squeak escaped me and I dropped the pan. O my god! I just went full on Rapunzel on this guys ass! I mean, he had a bad intent but that doesn't mean that I can just give him brain damage. Oh man oh man oh man. During my antics, I totally forgot about the second intruder. I heard footsteps coming toward me and I only had time to grab a sliced lemon and squirted it into the eyes of a giant. As he was clutching his eyes, I kneed him in the family jewels and hightailed it out of there.

I sprinted to where I last saw Bobby and jumped into his arms. He certainly was surprised to see me again.

"Is something wrong kid?"

I nodded because my lungs were collapsing within my chest. When Bobby saw the scene in the kitchen, his jaw dropped.

I patted him on the shoulder, "I know, how could these two jerks think that robbing someone is ok but luckily, I was here to stop the crime in action."

I thought for a moment when an idea dawned on me.

"So technically, I'm Batman."

Bobby still hadn't moved from his spot in the kitchen doorway. His eyes first landed on the unconscious guy in the corner then wandered to the big hairy guy that was sobbing into the palms of his hands. Then his eyes landed on me and he started laughing. Not a tickle giggle, no, it was full on belly laughs with the ho hos and tears. I was offended, to tell you the truth. He didn't think that I could take care of myself. I crossed my arms and put all my weight on one hip, waiting for chuckles over here to get a hold of himself. Wiping tears from his eyes, Bobby sat down in a chair that hadn't toppled over from my little scuffle.

"Oh man kiddo, I haven't laughed that long in years."

I raised an eyebrow."Well, I'm happy I amused you. I can finally live my life knowing that my ultimate purpose was fulfilled."

Still catching his breath, he looked at the unfortunate souls on the ground.

"You must really be off your game if you let a little kid get the jump on you like that sons. Serves you right for barging in here."

I was a little confused here. He was talking to these people like he knew them.

"What the hell Bobby? Who are these creeps?"

"These two idjits are the Winchesters."


End file.
